


Respect And Affection

by flawedamythyst



Series: Horse And Carriage [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gives John something to mark their five year anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respect And Affection

Mrs. Hudson was putting the mistletoe up when they came home from Scotland Yard after a dull afternoon of witness statements, but Sherlock didn't take much notice to start with. Hewas very much looking forward to getting upstairs, where John would doubtless make him tea without needing to be asked and let him explicate the precise reasons why being forced to document every step of an investigation at the level Lestrade insisted on was the most mind-numbingly boring thing ever.

John grinned when he saw it. “Hoping to get lucky, Mrs. Hudson?” he asked.

“Oh, you,” she said, stepping back to admire it. “My niece gave it to me – she's got a tree growing in her garden.”

“Parasite,” corrected Sherlock. “Mistletoe is a parasitic plant, not a tree.”

Mrs. Hudson frowned at him but before she could reply, John swooped on her and kissed her cheek soundly.

“Cheeky!” she exclaimed, and John laughed.

“Just make sure you're not standing under it when the postman calls,” he said. “Come on, Sherlock. I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Sherlock followed him upstairs, taking care to avoid the mistletoe and thinking to himself.

He and John had been married for over five years now, and for the last two, John had given up any pretence that he was looking for a woman at all. Sherlock had begun to wonder if maybe he should make some gesture to express his appreciation that John had not only gone along with his plan in the first place, but had committed himself to it in a way that meant that it was now fairly obvious to everyone that they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. Perhaps the mistletoe would give him the chance he'd been looking for.

John knew exactly where Sherlock stood when it came to the physical aspects of love, and had never pushed for more than Sherlock was willing to give. Sherlock wasn't even sure that John would want to – he'd never shown any sexual interest in men, and he seemed just as happy to draw the line at snuggling on the sofa as Sherlock was. The only exception was that he would press a careful kiss against Sherlock's forehead when he thought he'd fallen asleep, but Sherlock didn't read any more into that than a gesture of affection.

A few of the times when a case had called them away from London, Sherlock had managed to get them a room with only one bed, claiming that all the doubles had been taken, or that there had been some mix-up with the booking. John had never looked wholly convinced by the excuses, but he'd never been uncomfortable about sleeping with Sherlock, seemingly perfectly content to wrap an arm around him whenever he draped himself over his chest whilst feigning sleep.

Still, the fact remained that John was a sexual man and that he had given that up for Sherlock. It felt like Sherlock should give him something in return, even if it was just a token to show that he knew and was appreciative.

Sherlock hated kissing. He'd tried it a couple of times when he was a lot younger, just to be sure he wasn't missing out on something, but it became clear very quickly that the whole thing was just messy and wet and invasive, and an extremely odd way to want to spend your time. It was those experiments that had made him decide not to even attempt sex – if that was just more of the same, why on earth should he bother? A mistletoe kiss, though – that had clear boundaries attached to it, and it was hardly going to physically harm him to do it just once.

He could remember watching his mother wrap up a truly hideous scarf for his great-aunt's birthday when he was a child. He'd expressed his opinion on the garment, and his mother had told him that sometimes you gave presents that you didn't like, because what mattered was that the recipient liked it.

John would like a kiss. Sherlock could give him one, and it could say everything he'd been thinking about without him actually having to go through all the tedious business of finding the words for it. It really was the perfect solution.

 

****

 

It took a couple of days for Sherlock to be able to manoeuvre John under the mistletoe without giving away his intention. He took his chance as soon as he saw it, grabbing hold of John's shoulders to keep him in place, and kissing him firmly, but hopefully with enough tenderness to convey his message. John's lips were warm under his, and it was a lot less unpleasant than he remembered, although he still wasn't sure he'd want to try it on a regular basis. There was something about it that made his spine itch uncomfortably.

When he pulled back, John's eyes were wide with shock, and Sherlock almost wondered if he'd gone too far, then his face relaxed into a warm, pleased smile that Sherlock couldn't help returning. _Exactly right_ , he thought with triumph.

“Thanks,” said John softly.

Sherlock shrugged and gestured upwards. “Mistletoe,” he said and turned back towards the front door, eager to be on his way now that the thing was over with.

“Right, of course,” said John, sounding as if he knew better. He followed Sherlock out of the front door, and watched while he hailed a taxi. “You know,” John said casually, hands in his pockets and the smile still lurking around the corners of his mouth, “if you ever wanted to come up and sleep in my room, you're always welcome. I know your bed can get pretty cluttered.”

Sherlock turned back to him, searching for any sign that he was asking for, or expecting, more than Sherlock was willing to give, but the only thing he could see was the same comfortable affection that they'd always shared. He smiled back. “I might well take you up on that,” he said, then pulled open the cab door and gestured inside. “Come on, this corpse won't wait forever.”

John ducked inside the cab and Sherlock followed him, reaching out to take John's hand at the same time as he gave the address to the driver and feeling the familiar brush of John's wedding ring against his fingers. This marriage really had been the best idea he'd ever had.


End file.
